Chiang Yee, the ‘Silent Traveller’, came to live and work in England in 1933, becoming exiled from China by the advent of the Second World War. He wrote several books on his travels in Britain and, later, America, during the 1930s and 40s, which have sadly been out of print for decades. Several years ago I read an original 40s copy of ‘The Silent Traveller in Oxford,’ which belonged to my grandfather, and I fell in love with its seductive prose and incredible, colourful paintings. I haven’t been able to find any of his other works until now, and I was filled with happiness when I saw that this book had been reprinted. I admit I came to read it already heavily biased in its favour, but with good reason.

‘The Silent Traveller in Edinburgh’ didn’t disappoint my expectations at all. It is more than merely a travel book, and in addition to descriptions of the beauties of the city, it features essays on artistic style, the importance of the natural world, and the character of the Scottish people. It is one of Chiang’s chief philosophies that, in the interest of world peace and international understanding, we should concentrate on the similarities rather than the differences between the races. Thus he is continually pointing out instances when the Scots and the Chinese share characteristics, traits and histories – frequently, when quoting some episode from Edinburgh’s history, he relates it to similar stories in Chinese antiquity. When standing outside Holyrood, he recalls lines from great Chinese poets, inspired by their own palaces. He wants us to understand that, whatever our background, language or upbringing, our appreciation of beauty and our sense of humanity is precisely the same.

The book is written with the Second World War as a backdrop, and it is a constant preoccupation for the author – he talks often about his worries for the safety of his family at the time of the travels described, and his anguish at not having seen them for many years by this point. Also, the city is full of soldiers and sailors on leave, food is scarce, and most of the galleries and museums he visits have their great treasures stored elsewhere for safety. But Chiang is an optimist and, despite the many worries of the time, the tone is always remarkably upbeat. His wish was that the war would force many cultures to come together, to seek to understand one another, and to foster new friendships in the future. I read this wondering what he would make of our increasingly Americanised, uniform modern world, with its Starbucks and MacDonalds on every street corner in every country.

I’ve always enjoyed reading travel books about places that I’ve already visited or that I know well. Living in Edinburgh, I loved getting someone else’s views on my home, particularly as his impressions are so very different from the standard. One of the things that makes the Silent Traveller so enjoyable is his ability to see the world through very different eyes to the great majority of people. He comes at the familiar with fresh ideas and understanding, which made me want to go and look again myself. It’s a pretty good recommendation of a travel book that it makes you want to travel. Also, it’s great to read of pre-60s Edinburgh, before its magnificent architecture was torn down to make room for the horrible, square, concrete travesties that you can’t seem to escape these days – the city was truly beautiful back then. And they had trams!

This is a book for anyone with a love of the beautiful in life. Chiang’s language is serene, easy to read, and almost childlike in its appraisal of the minute details of things. The poems are written in both English and Chinese, and the oriental characters add another aspect of attractiveness to the work – Chiang tells us that good calligraphy is appreciated in the same way as good painting in China, and it is certainly a gorgeous language when written on the page. But it is his art that makes this book so magical; its simple juxtaposition of Chinese composition with Scottish subjects achieves wonderful results. It’s a pity that the majority of the paintings are not reproduced in full colour, as they lose a lot of their quality in black and white.

I only hope there are plans to bring the rest of the Silent Traveller books back into print.

Tim West is a philosophy graduate living in Edinburgh. Ill-equipped for the realities of the outside world, he patiently awaits the day the government stops boycotting the Arts and gives him some money to return to university, or ‘the womb’ as he is often inclined to think of it. Having said that, all or most of his pleasures derive from exploring outside the outside world, and he is a keen traveller, devoting all spare cash to heading off around the globe in search of excitement and treasure. His likes include coffee and old books, and his dislikes include pragmatists.

© 2004 Laura Hird All rights reserved.